


We Sullen Were

by Cadaverish



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Dark Will, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, cheeky Hannibal, fed up Will
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-24
Updated: 2015-04-24
Packaged: 2018-03-25 13:24:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3812143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cadaverish/pseuds/Cadaverish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will has had just about enough of Hannibal's shenanigans. When Randall Tier hurts one of his dogs and busts up his window, Will decides to teach him a lesson.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Sullen Were

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cannibals-in-pajamabals](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=cannibals-in-pajamabals).
  * Translation into Русский available: [Мы обиделись](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6282604) by [Ardel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ardel/pseuds/Ardel)



> Quick one shot for an excellent human going through a rough time. 
> 
> As ever, it's horrible terribly shamefully unbeta'd and any mistakes are mine to bear.

Will Graham was ready when Randall Tier burst through the window. 

He had left his shotgun on the table and shooed the dogs into the bedroom in the scant few minutes it would take the man to lope down the hill. The barest flicker of movement drew Will’s gaze and then glass was sparkling around him like snowfall. Tier took him to the ground and Will went easily, which Tier hadn’t been expecting, and kept Tier rolling until he was on his back and Will was straddling his thighs. 

He expected to feel conflicted about this, he thought distantly. Randall Tier was no better than he was, a pawn on Lecter’s chessboard, but the moment Will’s knuckles collided with Tier’s face, he felt nothing but adrenaline. His arm rose, the shoulder flexed, the forearm tensed, the fist closed, and the arm fell again. Will thought about boat engines, the regular mechanical movements of their parts, and he hit Tier again and again. 

Abruptly he realized Tier had stopped struggling, and in fact Tier had stopped breathing, and Will went still over the body. His knuckles started to sting as he sat on the body in the chill of his broken window and he panted. 

Distantly, he heard one of his dogs whine, Sasha by the sound of it. 

Will stood, knocking one foot against the body and was hit with the urge to stomp down, to go on kicking until Tier was so much blood and flesh on the floor. He waited for the guilt to come, but only fury was there inside of him, blinking owlishly. 

Will opened the bedroom door and dogs tumbled forth. A few of them were interested in the man on the floor. Rocky started lapping at the blood and Will was about to call him off when he looked back in the bedroom and saw Buster had stayed there, laying on his side looking pitifully back at Will, and Will’s jaw clicked shut. It served Tier right to lay there and be food for the innocent creature he had tried to hurt. 

The thought of food reminded Will of Hannibal. Everything seemed to remind him of Hannibal, these days. 

Will watched himself, feeling outside his body and he stooped down to Tier, drew his belt knife, and cut the man’s cheeks from his face. 

Hannibal had made beef cheeks for he and Alana once. Will remembered him saying that they were naturally tender and that he considered them a treat. 

Will took the cheeks to his kitchen and set them to brown in oil, certain the dogs would care about seasoning and unwilling to go too far into his charade of Hannibal. The smell drew the dogs to the kitchen, even Buster though he looked painful. Will’s own mouth watered and Will decided resolutely not to think about that.

When the cheeks looked like medium-well beef, Will got them out of the skillet and set them on a paper towel to get the stray oil off, then cut them into little chunks, one for each dog. He knelt on the kitchen floor, feeding a man to his dogs, and thought he could see the draw Hannibal felt. He wasn’t sure if he hated Hannibal for making him this way or if he hated himself for being like Hannibal, but one thing he still didn’t feel was guilty. 

Abruptly, Will wanted to see Hannibal in the flesh. 

He turned off the stove and went back to the living room, the dogs followed close behind hoping for more treats. Will got Tier’s body around his neck in a fireman’s carry and heaved him out to the car. Then he found some old tarp in the barn and made a hasty patch job of the window and wrapped up Tier, before securing the dogs inside, loading Buster into the passenger seat, and driving into Baltimore.

His first stop was the pet hospital. They did an x-ray of Buster and pronounced him whole, but gave Will some light painkillers to give him while his bruised ribs healed. Will gave one to Buster as they left the hospital, and Buster fell asleep as he drove to Hannibal’s. 

Will let himself in, not bothering to knock, although it was well after midnight. He carried Tier into the kitchen and briefly contemplated leaving him on the counter, but the counters had a good view to the street and if anyone stopped to look they’d undoubtedly have questions.

Will wouldn’t mind somebody besides himself asking questions about Hannibal Lecter’s dining practices, but he needed a few words alone, first. 

Then Will retrieved Buster and put the drowsy dog in Hannibal’s study, right on the plush couch Will knew from experience would be a bitch to get clear of dog hair. Will shut the study, and returned to foyer, intent on retrieving Hannibal, but found the man himself watching Will from the tops of his stairs. 

“I thought we agreed you wouldn’t try to kill me again, Will.”

Hannibal was wearing a bathrobe and lose pajama bottoms, but the robe didn’t come fully to his wrists and he didn’t seem to be wearing a shirt. Will saw the cuts that Matthew Brown had left on him and wondered suddenly why he had ever thought he’d be happy with somebody else killing Hannibal.

“If you think this is my best attempt at murder you really need to see the dining room,” Will replied brusquely and breezed down the hallway. He was sure Hannibal would follow, even if the man was disconcertingly silent about it. 

Will waited at the foot of the table and Hannibal appeared in the doorway. When he saw Tier’s body, he went utterly still. “Will,” Hannibal sounded like he meant to say more but his voice trailed off. 

“He hurt my dog, Hannibal,” Will was so angry his voice shook. “He’s sleeping in your study. If Tier had killed him,” Will clenched his jaw and tried to let his rage shine through his eyes. Hannibal seemed to get the message. Will hadn’t intimidated him, but he hadn’t expected to, and the look of mild surprise was intensely satisfying in its own way. Hannibal’s version of “oh, shit”. 

“Cook me something.” Will said, pulling out the chair at his end of the table and sat down. “I don’t give a shit if you’re not hungry.”

Hannibal looked surprised again, but then something sparked in his gaze and the tiniest of smiles twisted up the corner of his mouth. “Perhaps a tartare,” Hannibal suggested with all the dispassionate charm of a tailor. Will met his eyes and stared blankly. 

Hannibal bowed his head deferentially and Will felt like he had swallowed hot coals. He thought he could get off on that little nod alone. He wondered how many people Hannibal bowed his head to. 

Hannibal returned with a wickedly sharp chef’s knife and a set of trauma shears. Will watched like a king on a throne observing his subject as Hannibal rolled Tier over and cut the shirt from his body. 

“May I ask what happened to his face?” Hannibal asked as he peeled the shirt away from Tier’s back. Being turned onto his stomach had thrust Tier’s head to the side and without his cheeks to hide them, his teeth gleamed. 

“My dogs were hungry,” said Will, folding his hands over his stomach. Hannibal went still at that, turning his head as if he was going to look at Will but he didn’t quite meet his eyes. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but shut it again without a word and took his cuts of meat back to the kitchen. 

Will didn’t have long to wait until Hannibal returned with cuts from Tier’s back layered over a pate of some kind and set onto a thick crust of dark bread. He moved to set the dish before Will, but Will kicked his chair away from the table so he sat at a right angle to the table’s edge. 

“No,” Will said, his tone firm and hard-edged, “kneel.”

Hannibal’s expression was inscrutable and they faced each other for a long time, each unblinking. Suddenly, Hannibal’s knee bent and he lowered himself to the ground between Will’s legs, holding up the plate like an offering. 

Will lifted the crust of bread from the plate, his face making it abundantly clear that Hannibal would stay there and the plate would stay raised until he said otherwise.

Will ate the crust of bread slowly, sucking the run off from his fingers between bites. When he’d finished, he took the empty plate from Hannibal’s hands and set it on the table. 

“Delicious,” Will praised him, “thank you.” 

Hannibal looked like he was about to reply, so Will raised a hand. He went silent. Will realized he was hard as a rock. 

“Now listen to me,” he said, “I’ve had just about enough of you jerking me around.” He paused, watching Hannibal’s face, but it was smooth and unchanging as marble. “Fucking Hobbs, the encephalitis, the ear, sitting in a fucking prison cell; I’m done with it, Hannibal. So here’s what’s going to happen,” Will paused and licked his lips. Hannibal didn’t look wary, if anything he looked curious even a little pleased. 

“You’re going to quit trying to kill me. I’m going to quit trying to arrest you. And I am not going to be a fixture on your shitty little chessboard anymore, understand?”

In answer, Hannibal brought his face to the crotch of Will’s dark jeans and pushed his cheek and the side of his mouth against the outline of Will’s cock. His eyes never left Will’s and the expression in them was teasing, even daring.

“Oh you little shit,” Will ground out, and he wrapped one hand in Hannibal’s hair then stood, kicking the chair back. “Fine,” he growled, “fine, if you want it then believe me you have it.” Using his free hand he jerked open his jeans and got his cock out. 

“I swear to god Hannibal if you bite me I will pull out every last one of your teeth.”

He paused with his cock up against Hannibal’s lips. “Say no now,” he mumbled lowly, “if you’re going to say no.”

Hannibal opened his mouth and pushed Will’s cock as deep into his mouth as he could take it with Will’s hand still tight in his hair. 

Will hissed, gritting his teeth and squeezing his eyes closed. Once the initial shock of hot mouth and wet tongue had passed, he took Hannibal’s head in both hands, and started to rock his hips forward. At first he was shallow, giving Hannibal a chance to get used to it and testing the limits of his jack reflex. 

“Fuck you’re so cocky, aren’t you,” Will muttered hardly aware he was so speaking, “and you should be too, you’re so fucking brilliant.” Will’s hips sped up and drool started to drip freely from Hannibal’s mouth. “Who could catch you, honestly, even trying my hardest I can’t come up with a useable scrap of evidence.” He laughed, breathlessly, going still for a moment and pulling out to let Hannibal breath in deep gulps of air. 

“But you knew that,” Will looked down as he pushed his cock back into Hannibal’s throat and almost went still again when he saw Hannibal’s hand was wrapped around his own cock, already flushed a deep crimson red and leaking in a steady stream. The sight sent something electric down Will’s spine. 

“Do you like this,” Will asked, half seriously, “do you like someone who knows who you are, who figured it out even if they can’t prove it?” Hannibal moaned around his cock and Will cursed and bit his lip to stave off orgasm. 

“You love being on your knees in front of me,” Will was realizing that it was true as he spoke, “you love it because you know I’m the one who could catch you.” Hannibal moaned again and Will grabbed the back of his head and pushed himself deep into Hannibal’s throat and came hard, pulsing right into the cannibal’s stomach. 

He pulled out and Hannibal coughed, going to his hands and knees. Will knelt down beside him and ran an a hand down the seriously terrifyingly solid muscles in his back, rubbing until the coughing subsided. Hannibal sat up after a moment and went back to rubbing his still hard cock at a furious pace. 

Will grabbed his forearm and Hannibal stilled, though every muscle in his face and chest were corded with the effort of it. Will took his wrist and pushed it back to the floor so Hannibal was leaning back on his hands and took over, pulling hard and fast on Hannibal’s cock until finally the other man came, his head rolling back and his tawny throat working with the effort of not yelling. Will couldn’t resist biting him, just over his pulse point. Hannibal did gasp then, and Will felt it under his lips. 

They sat on the floor of Hannibal’s dining room, panting in the silence as Hannibal recovered. “We’re going to talk about this,” Will informed him, though the desired effect was somewhat lessened by his breathlessness. 

“In the morning, I think,” Hannibal replied easily, getting to his feet. “Your dog will be alright until then, won’t he?”

He meant Buster, Will realized, sleeping blissfully in his medicated slumber in the study. “Yeah,” Will agreed, “I’m going to set out some water for him.” In the nicest looking serving bowl I can find, he added silently but no less viciously. 

“Come to bed when you’re done,” Hannibal told him, running a big hand over Will’s cheek and striding breezily from the dining room. 

“If he tells me he fucking planned this,” Will told Buster in the study, “I’ll fucking murder him.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you all so much for reading!


End file.
